Hey there everyone!! Sorry about the wait, but as I said, things are a little hectic around here at the moment. I noticed a lot of you were confused at the end of the last chapter, concerning who'd thrown the Avada Kadavra. Sorry to have confused you, but it's just the way I word things sometimes, forgetting that I know who I'm talking about all the time, but most others need the clarification. To put that to rest, it was Lucius that actually cast the curse. They way I'd worded it just made it sound like any of them could have cast it at someone. Sorry about that.

Anyway … here's your next chapter! I hope you like it. I know I liked writing it, so tell me if there's something wrong or if something doesn't make sense. I've realized that the latter is more frequent … hehehe. Please review!!

Chapter Thirty Seven: The Transition

A brilliant flash of green light filled the room, causing all to be momentarily blinded, looking away and shielding their eyes. Severus heard himself shout a strangled plea, only to feel surprise when he heard a crackling sound right before the flash intensified, then faded, a muffled thump echoing through the Infirmary.

He opened his eyes, blinking away the white dots, and focused on the bed in the corner. Harry was still laying prone, motionless on the bed, and for a fleeting moment Severus thought the curse had done it's job … until his eyes caught sight of the crumpled form strewn at the base of Harry's bed.

Impulsively, Severus took a step forward, only to stop when Harry's voice announced hoarsely, "Don't bother, Dad. He's dead. I kept the shield for the Avada up … Looks like it was a good thing…"

'That doesn't explain how he got out of Azkaban, nor how he came to impersonate the Minister of Magic?' Severus sent back pointedly.

"He's probably dead," Harry answered as Severus walked over to Malfoy. "I doubt Lucius Malfoy would keep someone like Fudge alive once he served his due…"

'I think I'd agree with that,' Sev finished, staring down at the face of his childhood associate emotionlessly. "I think we've just added another person for Shackbolt to catalogue?"

"Forget about Malfoy, Snape!" Remus snapped, darting towards them. "You'd think that you'd worry about Harry's welfare first off, wouldn't you?"

"No need to worry, Lupin," Remus stopped at Sev's words. "I assure you, he's alive and kicking under there." Severus bent down and plucked Lucius's wand from his fingers, avoiding looking at the mans face, knowing he'd see the cold gaze from his lifeless eyes. "Albus, someone has to find out if Fudge is still alive or not. Check at his home, his office, anywhere he may favour. It is most likely that Lucius has killed him, but we need to be sure. This switch happened far too quickly for my liking."

By the time morning arrived, it had been discovered that Fudge was actually still alive, found Stupefied and bound in his manor. Tonks and Kingsley returned to remove Malfoy's body, asking no questions as to how it got there. Also, a reporter from the Prophet had come and gone, collecting all the details regarding Harry's murder, with the promise that the report would be very tactful. Of course, Severus threatening to disembowel said reporter could have had some sway over that agreement.

Harry had told them not to bother about cleaning him up and placing glamour's over his wounds. He did it himself, now appearing as though he was only sleeping. McGonagall was keeping vigil over Hermione, who was slowly showing signs of improvement now, while Severus remained by Harry's bedside, trying to remain awake for the night to keep Harry company, knowing that he needn't sleep at all.

'You know, you really need to get back into the habit of sleeping, Harry,' Sev grumbled sleepily, scowling at the beams of morning sunlight streaming into the Infirmary.

"What for? I'm already dead. I won't need to fall asleep until I come out of hiding as Callen Snape."

"That's true," Sev mumbled to himself, knowing that Harry would have heard him. Minerva was the only other conscious person in the ward, and he knew that she'd know who he was talking to if she heard him. "So … are you going to reintroduce yourself as a Sixth Year, or are you going to be a twenty-something year old?"

"What? I couldn't do that! What about finishing school?" came Harry's incredulous reply, making Severus smile amusedly.

"Harry think about it," said Sev, keeping his voice to a low whisper. "You no longer need schooling, and trying to keep up your façade around the other students will be difficult. Anything you feel you need to learn, I'm sure you can be shown a few times in the other staff's spare time, but other than things like that, you require no more schooling. You can be my Potions Apprentice for a cover, seeing as you've already used it in front of Percy Weasley and the real Minister."

There was a long pause, and Severus was beginning to think that Harry wouldn't answer until, "But, if I was your Apprentice, I couldn't be your son. I'd be too old…" Sev could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke.

"How old do you think I am, Harry?" Sev asked, curious yet wondering how accurate the students guesses were as well.

"Err … I'm not sure. Mid forties maybe?" came Harry's hesitant reply.

Severus raised his eyebrows, surprised at how close the guess was. "I'm impressed, Harry. You're actually very near correct. I am actually forty one. So you see, you could still pass as my son, if you were to be my Apprentice. You look all of twenty five at the very oldest, but you can pass as someone of around twenty two, twenty three, without any effort, making me your father at around eighteen, nineteen. Very plausible."

"Plus, it would remove me from the Avatar's age group. No one would be suspicious about it," Harry added, sounding rather excited. "It's a good idea … but Dumbledore needs to approve of it first. I can't just skip two years of study like that … plus Hermione would spit fire at me if I did."

Sev cocked an eyebrow, "So your decision resides on Miss Granger's reaction, does it?"

Whatever Harry was going to say in response to his question, was cut off by loud voices approaching the Infirmary, followed by the sound of the double doors slamming open.

"I will not believe it until I see it for myself, Albus!" Cornelius Fudges voice echoed angrily, making Severus scowl … at least until he heard Harry growl in his head. Schooling the smirk off his face, Severus turned to the small gap in the partition, awaiting the Ministers ultimate arrival. "It just can't be true!" The curtains were wrenched open, and Fudge froze at seeing Severus standing there.

"Not true like the Dark Lords rebirth, hmm Fudge?" Severus sneered, stepping forward into the portly mans personal space, forcing him back, away from Harry's form. "I may be wrong, but I'm quite sure that in this instance, I am not the only person that wishes Lucius had killed you before he died. We'd be better for it without you, you pompous, pig-headed, vile excuse of a human being!"

Fudge could only blink at Severus's tirade, his mouth hanging open stupidly. Dumbledore looked at the ceiling, seeming to have gone temporarily deaf, while Minerva and Remus scowled at the Minister.

"How dare you – "

"As you can plainly see, Fudge," Severus cut in sharply, "Mr Potter has indeed left the world of the living. I don't expect he shall be forging false rumours about long dead Dark Wizards to destabilize all your hard work … for quite some time."

"Real smooth there, Dad. You handled that with such profound grace and cordiality that you've done me proud…" Harry deadpanned, making Severus cough loudly to hide his snickering, drawing strange looks from Remus and Minerva.

Fudge was looking down at Harry's body almost emotionlessly, bordering on scepticism. "And just how am I to know that this is really Potter?" he asked crisply, turning to face the dark looks Severus was throwing his way. Dumbledore still remained calm. "For all I know, this could be one of his tricks to run from You-Know-Who…"

"If you would forgive my shortness, Minister," said Severus coolly, "but, you have no idea what you're talking about. In all the years that Mr Potter has gone looking for trouble, I for once, can never say that he ever ran. Why, not but just over a month ago, Mr Potter stood face to face with the Dark Lord for the forth time. I assure you, Fudge, that he would never run."

"And I don't see how you can accuse Harry of trying to hide by faking his death anyway, Cornelius," Albus spoke up, his tone hard and bore warning. "If you want proof, I can go and fetch my Pensive and show you what happened with Harry's Muggle relatives. I was there, as was Severus and Remus. We all saw it…"

"Anyway, you can't do much about it, as two Healers from Saint Mungo's have already confirmed Mr Potter's cause of death and identity," Minerva spoke up sharply, her hard eyes bearing down on the Minister. "That, and a reporter from the Daily Prophet has already come by and is writing a report for this mornings paper, which should be arriving in most of the Wizarding Worlds homes in about two hours."

If the situation weren't so dire, Severus would have smiled at the apoplectic expression on Fudges face, making his head look like a plum, what with the lovely shade of purple he seemed to be turning. The man finally saw sense and believed their story about Harry's demise, and left quickly to co-ordinate the funeral efforts with the two Healers from St Mungo's.

"He was cheery, wasn't he?" Harry commented idly to everyone after the plump man had left the Infirmary.

***

It wasn't until two days later that Hermione had regained enough strength to wake up, only to hear about what had happened while she was unconscious. She was told that Harry was still alive, and found out that the public funeral was to take place at the end of the week. Two days away. Remus had left for his home the day before, in preparation for the full moons arrival, and the only other creatures that were coming and going at a hellish rate, were the Owls that had inundated the Headmasters office, ever since the report about Harry's death had come out.

The only exceptions to this were the Weasley's. The very day the Prophet had come out with the front page story of Harry's death, every single one of them (save Ron and Percy) had marched up to Dumbledore's office and demanded what was going on. Fred and George were the calmest of the group, but even though they knew about Harry, they were still worried for him.

Reluctantly, Dumbledore had led them down to the Infirmary, where Mr and Mrs Weasley were temporarily distracted by Hermione, before being drawn back to Harry's bed, where he lay prone, clean and dressed, ready for his funeral in a few days. It had been a hard meeting, for those who knew that Harry was alive, to witness. Mrs Weasley was sitting in the chair by Harry, weeping loudly, clinging to his cold hand as though it was a lifeline. She rocked back and forth, leaning into the embrace her husband gave her, tears streaming silently down his cheeks also. Ginny had clung to George fiercely, her head buried in his neck as he tried to console her while Fred got the real story from Severus, standing in the background.

By mid-afternoon, Dumbledore and Severus had managed to send the Weasley's back home, telling them that they could say a proper goodbye at Harry's funeral. After waking, Hermione had kept Harry company, letting Severus go about his duties for a while, even though the man would return to Harry's side every night without fail.

"Dad, I'll be fine," Harry had said at around midnight on the eve of his funeral. "You need to sleep, unlike me. I can keep myself occupied by running through my abilities mentally and such. I'm pretty sure that some have gotten better while I've been holed up here, and I might even be starting a couple of new ones. Go. To. Sleep."

Jerking awake at Harry's voice, Severus had reluctantly agreed and went to his chambers, but not before doing something he'd never done before, leaning down and gently kissing Harry on the forehead.

"After tomorrow I get to claim you, Callen. No more hiding…" he'd whispered, gently brushing his hand over Harry's unruly hair. "Goodnight, son." As Severus had slowly closed the door to the Ward, he smiled at Harry's soft response.

"Goodnight, Dad."

***

"Here Hermione," Fred whispered urgently in her ear, as they all lingered and mingled just before Harry's funeral was due to start. Hermione had been released from the Infirmary that very morning, and was due to have check ups with Madame Pomfrey every day for the next week. As it is, she was a little pale and tired easily, but she wouldn't have missed this for the world. Fred tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped in surprise, before feeling something pressed into her hand.

"What's this?" she hissed back, looking at the small square candy.

"Brand new," said George, looking around the huge crowd gathered on the Quidditch Pitch with them, trying to not look shifty. "They're called 'Tender Tearjerkers' and this gave us the idea. I mean … we know the truth, but as Harry's buds, it would look weird if we didn't get all teary now, wouldn't it? Hence, these little beauties. Great idea, huh?"

Hermione smiled briefly, also casting a searching eye across the masses. "Fred, George … I will never denounce your brilliant minds again."

"Aw, did you hear that, George?" said Fred, wiping away a nonexistent tear. "Our Hermione just called us brilliant… I feel so special…"

George sniffled back and nodded, resting his head on his twins shoulder, "Indeed she did, Fred. I'm so happy I could cry…"

Hermione only shook her head at them, thanked them for the 'Tearjerker', then went off to find someone she'd been looking for all morning. He had to be there, she knew he would. There was no way that he wouldn't come, even if he did realize that Harry wouldn't be dead. Some of her schoolmates had sought her out to offer their condolences, but Hermione only half noticed, paying enough attention to acknowledge them before moving along. As the starting music began, Hermione felt a painful jolt of realization, making it unnecessary for her to take Fred and Georges little gift. As Hermione went to take her seat, her tears pooled and fell unchecked … but no one knew the reason save for one.

Just before Hermione reached her seat, she felt a hand settle softly on her shoulder, turning her around gently. Trying to look a little more presentable, she sniffled and wiped at her face, but a strong hand covered hers, halting her efforts.

"He's not here, Miss Granger," Snape's smooth voice stated gently, almost sounding disappointed at the fact. "I know you wanted him to come, as did Harry … but I've just come from the Weasley's. He refused to come with them, even after those twins had a word with him. To say that they are upset with him would be quite the understatement, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

Hermione was a little surprised at how nice Snape was being, even though she'd seen him with Harry those few times. It would take some getting used to, that was for sure. But besides that fact, Hermione felt a swell of appreciation for him, telling her what she'd wanted to know, even though it had upset her to hear it. She hesitantly let a watery smile grace her face, nodding her thanks at the sourly Potions Master, before bowing her head and resuming the short journey to her seat.

The service went by in a large blur for Hermione, barely registering the different speeches made about Harry and his efforts against the Dark Lord. The coffin was sitting on some kind of shrine, surrounded with useless flowers and trinkets that meant nothing to her friend. It was made of a dark mahogany, with gold inlays throughout it. Ridiculously expensive for something that's only heading six feet under, in Hermione's opinion. She looked around the mass of people, scrutinising all of them with a critical eye. Only the few people, who she knew personally, that had known Harry well through school, were weeping for him. All but two of the Weasley's were present, and all of them were wiping at their eyes regularly. The few teachers that had grown close to Harry were also trying not to cry. Hagrid for example was howling as though he'd lost his own leg.

It greatly vexed Hermione that the large majority of the crowd seemed unaffected at all, almost seeming bored by the formal proceedings. And if they weren't yawning, they looked exceedingly fearful, thinking that their hero was dead, so where did that leave them simple folk against the Dark Forces rising against them? Stuck with the Ministry as their guards, she thought with a quiet snort of disgust. She knew for a fact that a large amount of the Ministry wouldn't be able to find the exit to a one door room with the lights on if their lives depended on it. Useless bunch of bureaucrats…

"Couldn't agree with you more, 'Mione," Harry's voice broke into her thoughts, making her jump rather suddenly, drawing a few confused and disapproving looks. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you like that."

'Merlin, Harry! Don't do that. You should give some kind of warning before jumping into someone's head like that.'

"I didn't mean to, 'Mione," Harry whined childishly, making a most inappropriate chortle build in Hermione's throat. "Anyway, I'm agreeing with the wide mouths out there. This is really boring."

Hermione coughed quietly, covering her chuckle, 'This is your funeral, Harry. It's not supposed to be as exciting as your life, you know. Anyway … I thought you'd be upset with all those idiots that don't give a damn whether you'd lived or not?'

"Nah," Harry answered blandly. "At least now I know that I wasn't appreciated or overly worshiped by them. Besides … it's not everyday that someone gets to witness there own funeral…"

Hermione had to agree with that point. But still … to know that almost everyone had pretended to respect you must have cut Harry in some way. She didn't see how it couldn't.

"Ouch … That stung…" suddenly popped into Hermione's mind, making her frown.

'What's wrong?'

"I just ripped my pinkie off. Now I know what Wormtail felt like when he did this."

Hermione was stunned. Harry had just removed one of his fingers! 'What the hell did you do that for???' she hissed at him.

"Don't worry. It's already growing back. I just needed to have a piece of me still in here when I light it. That way, if someone wants to check if I was in here, my signature will still show. Get it?"

Hermione was growing anxious at Harry's words. What was he planning to do? 'Harry, what do you mean, "When you light it"? Light what?'

There was a pause. "The coffin, 'Mione. What else would I light?"

'WHAT?!!'

"I won't be in it at the time, Hermione! Jheez, I'm not that stupid…" Harry made Hermione know that he'd just rolled his eyes mentally. She didn't know that someone could even do that, and still project it telepathically. "Time for the fireworks. And remember, 'Mione … From now on, call me Callen…"

Hermione didn't even have enough time to process Harry's words, when all of a sudden Harry's coffin erupted in a huge ball of fire, hot enough to melt the gold, and turn everything into ash. Even the dais the coffin was sitting on was crumbling with the heat. Almost everyone in the front quarter of the seating arrangements had leapt to their feet and fled to the back, terrified by the sudden eruption. Only Hermione remained near her seat, though she was now standing as near as the heat allowed.

She felt someone stand beside her, and she looked up to see Professor Snape, staring into the flames as though hypnotised. Some of the more experienced wizards had rushed forward, attempting to put the fire out with water from their wands, but all it did was fuel the flames, making them more intense than before.

"Ere goes Harry Potter," she heard the dark man mutter.

She looked up at him and met his gaze.

"So enters Callen Snape."